W., J. · published 1637 · first performed or written 1626 [1625-1626] (Annals) history · Unknown T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.79 · 503 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Nea marry, stay a wheane, Dip not thy vineyard in the weambe Of Laverck's town, for giffe thou gange, Thouse weark thy lives friend mickle wrang, Thouse come back safe, but barn I fear, I'll never blinck upon thee mere, Kneel till thy sire his benuson crave, Next duty been till dig her grave, Kiss, kiss thy Peg, for well a near, Thase amorous twins sall ne'er kiss mare, Till in death's arms they kiss, thilk state Stands writ in heaven and sealed by fate. Then fate dissembles with me, this the second time She has by vision summoned me to arms, Whom have you there? Seeking the cave for shelter, See whom kind fare hath given us. Treacherous Wallace, The doting wizard, and dissembling woman Chief cause of this Rebellion, now revenge, Cloth thee in crimson, and prepare to feast, we'll tune such dismal music, as shall dint, Smiles in thy shallow cheeks. Alas, for wae, What gars this Iewde? what ill intend ye man? To make rebellion fatherless, And murder a madding widower. Oh, spare mine age. Pity my beauty. My religion. Like pity, as thy barbarous son bestowed On my boy's life, i'll print upon thy bosom. Like pity as thy husband pitiless, Took on the widow's tears, and orphan's cries That kissed his, and hung about his knees At Laverck's massacre, I'll show on thee. Thus fell my son, And thus the father of his murderer falls. Thus withered the pride of Laverck, And thus fades the flower that caused their ruin. Thus religious cries Were stopped with steel, and thus religion dies. Wallace, revenge me as thou art my son. Revenge thy wait, Revenge Religion. Thunderbolts and fire rampire your throats, The slaves grown infinite, And moves in every place at once, Shift for yourselves: Proud Wallace reeking in the blood of Lavercke, Like a fierce tiger nursed in humane spoil, Pursues the slaughter, the barren hills lie strewed With mangled limbs, such as the gentle night Rescue from death, fall in the morning flight, Then fly or fall for company, Fly from a rebel, but fate keep true course, we'll ebb like floods, to flow with stronger force. Pursue the slaughter, whilst I, salvation shield me. friar Gertrid answer me, what barbarous hand Has cast my friend into this cold dead sweat, Resolve me gentle Father, felon death, thou'st acted sacrilegious burglary, and told my father. Wallace. No excuse. Ay sea husband. Entreat not, ye are guilty both. And parties in the dearest robbery, Then though my wife and father (mercy fate,) Play not the tyrant with me, do not try My senses bore their weak ability, Cease to afflict me, or I shall turn Rebel, And breathe invectives 'gainst thy power. O my dear Wallas for the luive waif, For siuve of awe souls, and thy daying waif, Lift to my latter accens, and attend Of all thy joys the darn and dismal end. Torture above endurance, King of dreams dissolve my vision. Wallace is awake.
nodes 646–724 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 10 of 32 in this edition
Length
503 words · 708 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.792 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T7 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Nea marry, ſtay a wheane, Dip not thy winyard in the weambe Of Lavercks town, for giffe thou gange, Thouſe weark thy lives friend mickle wrang, Thouſe come back ſeafe, but barne I feare, Iſe never blinck upon thee meare, Kneel till thy Sier his benuſon crave, Next duty bin till dig her grave, Kiſſe, kiſſe thy Peg, for well a neer, Thaſe amerous twins ſall nere kiſſe mare, Till in deaths armes they kiſſe, thilke ſtate Stands writ in heaven and ſeal'd by fate. Then fate diſſembles with mee, this the ſecond time She has by viſion ſummon'd me to armes, Whom have you there? Seeking the cave for ſhelter, See whom kind fare hath given us. Trecherous Wallace, The doting wizzard, and diſſembling woman Chief cauſe of this Rebellion, now revenge, Clothe thee in crimſon, and prepare to feaſt, Wee'l tune ſuch diſmall muſick, as ſhall dint, Smiles in thy ſhallow cheeks. Alas, for wae, What gars this Iewde? what ill intend ye man? To make rebellion fatherleſſe, And murder a madding widdower. Oh, ſpare mine age. Pitie my beauty. My religion. Like pity, as thy barbarous ſonne beſtow'd On my boyes life, ile print upon thy boſome. Like pitie as thy husband pitileſſe, Took on the widdows tears, and Orphans cryes That kiſt his, and hung about his knees At Lavercks maſſacre, Ile ſhew on thee. Thus fell my ſonne, And thus the father of his murtherer fals. Thus wither'd the pride of Laverck, And thus fades the flower that caus'd their ruine. Thus religious cries Were ſtopt with ſteele, and thus religion dies. Wallace, revenge me as thou art my ſonne. Revenge thy wait, Revenge Religion. Thunderbolts and fire rampier your throats, The ſlaves growne infinite, And moves in every place at once, Shift for your ſelves: Proud Wallace recking in the bloud of Lavercke, Like a fierce tiger nurſt in humane ſpoyle, Purſues the ſlaughter, the barren hills lye ſtrewed With mangled limbes, ſuch as the gentle night Reſcue from death, fall in the morning flight, Then flye or fall for company, Flie from a rebell, but fate keep true courſe, Weele ebbe like flouds, to flow with ſtronger force. Purſue the ſlaughter, whilſt I, ſalvation ſhield me. Fryer Gertrid anſwer me, what barbarous hand Has caſt my friend into this cold dead ſweat, Reſolve me gentle Father, fellon death, Tha'ſt acted ſacrilegious burglary, and told my father. Wallace. No excuſe. Ay ſea husband. Intreat not, ye are guilty both. And parties in the deereſt robbery, Then though my wife and father (mercy fate,) Play not the tyrant with me, do not try My ſences bore their weake abilitie, Ceaſe to afflict me, or I ſhall turne Rebell, And breathe invectives gainſt thy power. O my deare Wallas for the luive waife, For ſiuve of awe ſawles, and thy daying waife, Lift to my latter accens, and attend Of all thy joyes the derne and diſmawe end. Torture above indurance, King of dreames diſſolve my viſion. Wallace is awake.